


Knock Her Socks Off

by Jubalii



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: F/M, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Post-Canon, Shyness, Some Fluff, Talking, lots of eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8321830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubalii/pseuds/Jubalii
Summary: He knew that he had no reason to be here, standing in front of her house. But he was.





	

            Why was he here? Why was he standing in a slummy alleyway with its peculiar odor of overcooked cabbage and motor grease as though he saw such things every day? And yet he was here; _why_? He kept repeating the question to himself, unable to find a true answer. He knew that he shouldn’t be here, had no _reason_ to be here, and yet he’d driven across the city with no other purpose than to find the address that he now held clutched in his sweaty fist. Part of him wanted to blame that brainless Jazakure and the other ex-Elite Four members; they’d put the smallest glimmer of hope into him, that something might come of these types of excursions. But she hadn’t forced him into the car, hadn’t made him drive here. He’d done that himself.

            He stared at the house, if it could even be called a house. It looked more like pieces of plywood slung together haphazardly, with gaps between the flat roof and the shantytown boards that served as the walls. At least there were windows cut into it, some with glass and some without, only wooden bars keeping animals (and maybe people) from coming in. Oil drums and pots of plants littered the alley on either side; an empty space on the left was the only free spot, and he assumed from the skid marks that a vehicle usually resided there. The most expensive looking thing was the flashing neon sign nestled crookedly above the door, proclaiming it to be the home of a top-class back alley doctor. The mailbox had been painted over with new numbers matching the ones on the address he’d been given, but he could still see the faded letters of the old Honnō City address beneath. He’d heard of moving house, but it looked as though they had truly _moved house._ No-Star slums didn’t exist anymore, so he assumed they could have found a better place to live. Perhaps they only felt comfortable living in an alley now?

            He had gotten the address from Lady Satsuki, under the pretense that if she ever needed a ride, he’d have to know where to find her. She’d given it to him with a little grin that had shaken him to the core; she could always see right through him, and even he knew that such a blatantly pathetic excuse was nothing more than his grasping at straws. He’d wanted to shout then and there that things weren’t what they seemed, and that there was no ulterior motive to know the address. But he hadn’t, for reasons even he couldn’t fully understand.

            And in reality, it _had_ been a very plausible excuse, if a bad one. After the destruction of Honnō City, Matoi had found herself the unofficially adopted daughter of the Mankanshokus, gaining herself a very odd, dysfunctionally functional family. As strange as it seemed, Satsuki herself had stated that Matoi couldn’t seem happier with her new life. They would most likely have taken Satsuki herself in as well, if not for the older girl’s inclination to continue living alone. She did, however, spend most weekends over at the Mankanshoku house, catching up on many lost years with the last bit of family she had.

And now here he was, too. He hesitated to knock, hand rising and falling as he continuously talked himself out of it. No one had seen him yet; he could still walk away. They didn’t have to know that he’d stopped by at all. Why was he even here? If he walked away, he wouldn’t have to answer that question. It could remain vague and unclear. But he was no coward, and walking away was a cowardly action. Wasn’t it? Surely he could think of some reason to explain himself, some unimportant message to convey, even perhaps feigning ignorance that this was even their house.

            “Get OUTTA here!” A loud, familiar voice startled him out of his thoughts and, for a split-second, he thought it was addressing him. The window to the right of the door slammed open and a gray blur soared past him, tumbling once on the loosely packed earth of the alley before the dust revealed a pug in a hoodie. Unperturbed by the sudden flight, it turned and tried to jump back through the window just as quickly as it had been flung out, howling a battle cry. A dark-haired girl leaned out the window and shoved its face back with her hand, ignoring the drool that dripped from her fingers as she did so.

            “Get lost, Guts! Go find Matarō! Better yet, go find something to piss on!” the girl shouted angrily, shaking her damp fist at the dog. Guts howled again and ran around the back of the house, his surprising speed sending little eddies of dust into the air. The girl scowled after him, resting her forearm on  the windowsill as she craned her head before ducking in an effort to get back inside.

            If he had been thinking clearly, he’d have moved out of sight as best he could, despite his height. He might have even hightailed it to the car and sped away while Ryūko’s attention had been diverted to Guts. But he’d been simultaneously amused and distracted by the situation, and before he could move Matoi turned her head and saw him standing like a fool before the front door with his arm still poised to knock. 

            “Hmm?” She looked him over once, twice, and then her frown deepened to one of confusion. “What’re _you_ doing here?” His mind tumbled over itself in an effort to come up with an excuse. Should he ask if Lady Satsuki were here? Should he say that he only meant to ask for directions to somewhere else? Should he state the truth, that he had no idea himself and was merely going on more of a whim? As he stood there, sweat trickling down the back of his neck and onto his collar, he felt the silence growing and knew that it was getting harder and harder to seem normal and not weird. Matoi waited for him to speak for a long moment before closing her eyes and scratching the inside of her ear with one finger.

            “Man, whatever,” she chuckled before calling over her shoulder. “Hey, the old pervert’s here!” There was the sound of a scuffle inside.

            “Mister Iwata!?” A bubbly voice called out in disbelief, and then a brown crop of hair shoved itself between Matoi’s arm and torso, pink cheeks pressed flush against the girl’s breast. Bright brown eyes stared at him a moment before lighting up in an excited glitter. He felt his heart thud heavily in his chest, the motions almost painful. _This_ was the reason he’d come. He’d wanted to feel it again, hadn’t he? “Woah! It’s Gamagōri!” Her voice was muffled, head crushed between her friend’s body parts. “ _Hyupp_!” Matoi must have moved back, for now Mako flipped herself out the window in an impressive tuck to stand before him. Her sundress caught on the sill and he saw a flash of pink and white stripes that made his breath freeze in his chest before she was upright again, bouncing on her heels as she looked up at him.  The front door opened and Lady Satsuki leaned against the doorframe, her knowing eyes piercing his skull as she tilted her head.

            “Gamagōri? What are you doing here?” she asked in a voice that told him that she already knew.

            “I, er—that is, Jazakure and the others…” he felt his face start to burn under the three girls’ combined stares. “I must have been mistaken,” he finally mumbled, staring down at his shoes. “I’ll be on my way.” He turned to leave, only to feel something small and warm grasp his hand. He looked back to see Mako’s two tiny hands enveloping his large one, her eyes wide and puzzled.

            “But you just got here,” she pouted, tugging him back towards the door. “Don’t you know what they say? Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party!” He highly doubted that anyone other than her said that, but something told him that he shouldn’t bother trying to argue with her. “Besides, it’s not like we go to school together anymore,” she added. “I haven’t seen you in forever; come on in and let’s make it a _real_ party!”

            “I don’t know… I don’t want to intrude. I was really just passing through,” he stammered, wondering why he was even making excuses now. Hadn’t he just been about to knock on the door? Would he have even went through with it if he hadn’t been caught? He looked to the sisters for confirmation; Matoi smiled and shrugged before pulling herself back through the window and shutting it, and Satsuki was already stepping back to let him through the door, and now… now he was squashed down between her and Matoi around a table. Mako plopped herself down directly across from him, grinning from ear to ear.

            His head brushed the ceiling of the tiny home, one shoulder crushed into the corner of the room. Old stale buns sat on the table in a chipped bowl, thick phone books and medical texts were stacked up to his left, a large flowering fern tickling the back of his head. The walls were scuffed, the folding doors ripped near the bottom. Directly behind Matoi’s head hung a selection of empty hangers and one baggy tee that said “I Heart Your Health” in large letters. He didn’t want to know why the heart was broken. And yet, despite all this wear and tear, the house was surprisingly clean and there was a sense of happiness and love that radiated from every corner.

            “Anyway, so yeah!” Mako spoke up suddenly, turning to Satsuki. “That’s why a duck couldn’t become a world leader without stilts!” Satsuki merely smiled, though she seemed about as befuddled as he felt. “Wait! I’m the host, and I haven’t even offered any of you something to eat!” Mako leapt back to her feet, looking around before grabbing the chipped bowl and thrusting it beneath his nose. “Here, Gamagōri, have a bun!”

            “Er…” He looked at the buns, which seemed dubious to say the least. They looked nothing like the mystery croquettes that her mother had fed them on the ship, so long ago. And they smelled musty, not appetizing. But she was looking at him with such gusto that he felt rude to deny her request. He politely took one—or tried to, as they were all stuck together and he ended up lifting the entire bowl from her hands.

            “Those’ve been sitting there for a long time,” Matoi said uncertainly, grabbing the bowl and trying to yank it out of his hands, or at least away from the bun between his thumb and forefinger. “No dice,” she sighed after a moment. “It’s alright. Let’s just wait for Mom to come back from the grocery store,” she told Mako. “I bet she won’t be much longer.”

            “Ryūko.” Satsuki stood and looked expectantly at her sister. “Instead of waiting, how about you and I walk down to the corner store? They have those good cakes there, and we can get some drinks as well.”

            “Huh?” Matoi tilted her head, looking up at her. “What?” Satsuki’s gaze became more intent and Gamagōri realized all at once what she was doing.

            “No!” he shouted, more loudly than he meant to. The three girls jumped in shock and he blushed even more furiously than he had outside. “I meant that perhaps we should just stay here and wait for Mrs. Mankanshoku. You shouldn’t have to go to any trouble.”

            “Nonsense, Gamagōri.” Satsuki smirked, the expression somewhat mischievous. “It’s not a long walk; it’s no trouble at all.” She looked back down at Matoi. “Ryūko?”  The younger girl was staring open-mouthed at her, but then comprehension filled her features and her eyes glittered with a devious light.

            “Ohhhh, right!” She got to her feet as well, stretching her arms above her head. “Yeah, I’ll come and help you carry the bags back. No problem.”

            “Maybe I should come too,” Mako said, halfway standing.

            “No, no. It’s only around the corner, after all,” Satsuki replied.

            “Yeah, Mako. You just stay here and relax with Gamagōri until we get back,” Matoi added with a grin. Before he could think of anything else to say and stop them, the front door slammed and they were gone. He froze, looking over his shoulder before forcing his body to relax. He turned back around to see Mako staring at him, her usual bright smile plastered on her face and her hands in her lap. He didn’t _want_ to be alone with her, and yet at the same time he was _elated_ to be alone with her.  

            “I  hope I’m not—”  He found himself unable to finish his sentence as she shifted forward to hear him better, the sundress slipping and showing the edge of one pink bra strap. He gulped and ran his fingernail along a groove in the table, staring at the faded wood. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen her naked or in her underwear before; he had, and that was the problem. The memory of her cute little body was seared into his mind, her pale skin bright against the black of the Nudist Beach uniform. He’d done such downright filthy things to himself while thinking about her that way; maybe he was just a pervert after all.

            “Not what?” He glanced back up at her, staring into her perfectly innocent face. Even now, she had no idea what he was thinking about…. Did she ever think of him? Probably not in that way, he concluded. He couldn’t imagine Mako thinking about _anyone_ like that, although she was a perfectly healthy young woman. _Stop thinking about it!_ He berated himself. _Can’t you just enjoy one nice afternoon in her presence? After all, wasn’t **this** your true goal in coming here—to see her? _He cleared his throat and tried again.

            “I hope I’m not being too forward in coming into your home this way, Mankanshoku.” She blinked twice before laughing. The sound of it filled him with a warmth that he only knew from being around her, and hadn’t been able to find anywhere else.

            “No way!” she continued to giggle. “I invited you in, silly!”  

            “Even so.” He shifted uncomfortably.

            “’So’ what?” she repeated, hands in her lap again as she leaned all the way to one side. “Like I said, it’s not like you and me go to the same school anymore. I was happy to see you.” Again his heart hammered in his chest, his brain refusing to believe what he’d heard.

            “You were… happy to see me? Really?”

            “Mhmm, super happy! I missed you, Gamagōri!” She—she’d missed him!?! “I miss a lot of people from Honnōji Academy. I kinda miss it there, even if I was just a No-Star. Our new high school is a lot more boring. Nobody bursts in and whips people into shape, and we don’t go off on Osaka raids or anything! And the clubs are… just clubs.” His heart sank, even as he listened to her. Oh, so that’s what she meant.

            “Well, Mankanshoku, you do realize that Honnōji academy was only posing as a school, right? Most other high schools don’t train their students to be in an army….” His fingernail was in the groove again, but now he didn’t feel nervous. Only disheartened and foolish. Of course she’d never think of him in that way. Crushes were always one-sided, weren’t they? That’s why they were called crushes: it crushed one’s dreams and made reality all the clearer.

            “I guess, but—what’s the matter?” she asked suddenly, and before he could move she had her back on the table and was nose-to-nose with him. He jerked back and she flopped onto her stomach, breasts pressed against the wood as she eyed him keenly. “I bet you’re hungry, aren’t you? That’s why you look so sad.” She nodded her own assent and leaned back into her seat. “Ryūko oughta be back with those cakes by now, but you gotta forgive her. She didn’t grow up like I did, with a mom to teach her proper host manners. In fact, she’s always been pretty lonely. When she first came here, did you know that she talked to her uniform?” she whispered conspiratorially, though they were the only two in the room. “Yep, she sure did! Gave it a name and everything. Poor, lonely Ryūko.” Mako shook her head sympathetically. “Lucky for her, she met my brother and then me, and now she’s not lonely at all!”

            “I’m sure that she’s lucky enough,” he managed to reply, not bothering to tell her that Matoi and Lady Satsuki were only taking their sweet time for his sake. Too bad it was a lost cause. “And as for me, I’ll be fine until they return.”

            “Are you sure?” Suddenly she was there again, close to him, her tiny fingers pressed against his naval. “Because when I get hungry—and I’m hungry a lot—it’s nearly _torture_ until I can get my hands on some grub!” She watched him with a  zealous glint in her eye, the thought of food filling every inch of her being. _The only torture for me is having you so near_ , he thought, pressing himself into the fern and away from her. _You’ve got no idea what you do to me, Mankanshoku._ He wanted to grab her, to press her little body close to his and feel her, but it would only frighten her. He should resist the urge, he knew he should, and yet….

            He dipped his head down, only half-aware of his actions. She stayed still, watching him with large doe eyes and her mouth slightly open. He leaned in closer, wondering what he meant to do when he finally could go no further. Kiss her? Maybe only her forehead or her cheek. His nose brushed hers and she still hadn’t moved away, her eyes still gazing into his with that strange, unreadable, completely Mako expression. _I’m forcing myself on her._ That thought alone sent him reeling back, confused and warm and frightened all at once. She finally blinked and he stood abruptly, sending her to the floor as he ducked to avoid his head crashing through her ceiling.

            “F-forgive me, Mankanshoku, but I have to go. Please give my apologies to Lady Satsuki and Matoi, and—give my regards to your mother,” he added, rambling on in an effort to play off and forget what almost transpired. _How could I do that? How could I nearly do something like that to such a sweet, innocent girl like Mankanshoku? I’m such a sick man…._ He turned, running a hand over his face as he stumbled for the exit.

            “Wait just one minute!” Her tone alone had him stopping in his tracks, looking over his shoulder warily at her. She was on her feet, glaring at him with her mouth set in a little frown. “Were you trying to kiss me, Gamagōri?”

            “I—um…” He bowed his head, knowing that he was truly deserving of the tongue-lashing she seemed ready to give him. “Yes. I admit that I was. I’m sorry, Mankanshoku.” With one fell swoop she leapt upon the table, the legs groaning beneath her weight but not falling, her hands coming above her head in an graceful X. Was that the light from the single bulb above the table, or were the heavens themselves shining down upon her perfection?

            “Shame on you, Gamagōri!” she cried. “If you’re gonna kiss someone, you gotta go for broke! No hesitation, no thoughts, just action, action, _action_! A guy’s gotta pick a girl up and kiss her socks off! Or, if it’s another boy, kiss _his_ socks off! Either way, the socks are off! All the way, all the time, until they both have no regrets whatsoever!!” While she spoke, she seemed to be everywhere at once: in his arms, holding one sock in each hand with her bare feet splayed on the table, punching the wall, spinning in a breeze of blossoms, and sliding down as though dipping someone during a dance. He stood there in shock, listening to her with a teeny hope worming its way out of his gut and through his body until he was positively burning with it.

            “So! I’m gonna give you one more chance to do it right, Gamagōri!” Her words seemed to possess him in a way that not even Lady Satsuki’s used to. The next thing he knew, he had picked her off the table, held her tightly to him, and pressed his lips fervently to hers. There was a pause and then he felt her arms go around his neck, holding him tightly as she shifted and moved her mouth against his almost shyly, compared to how boldly she’d spoken up before. A shudder ran down his spine and he tried to remember his strength, not wanting to crush her if he lost himself. In contrast she was clearly clutching him as tightly as she could, her fingers tangling in his hair in such a way that he began to wonder if she might not be quite so innocent after all.  He pulled away long enough to take a breath, smiling with a smugness that seemed to come from out of nowhere.

            “Well, Mankanshoku? Did that knock your socks off?” he asked teasingly, not meaning for her to answer. But answer she did, leaning back as far as her arms would allow her to go without letting go of his neck.

            “Why don’tcha check for yourself,” she giggled with a  dazed expression, a perplexingly arousing version of her happiest smile playing on her lips. He looked around and found that her feet were indeed bare once more, two pink socks laying demurely on the ground near his shoes. He felt both silly and proud, a combination that he’d never felt before in his life.

            “Heh.” He turned back to face her. “Say, what are you doing tomorrow evening?” he asked, while he still had the courage to do so. He could feel the empowering will of her words fading, and knew that in a few moments he’d be scarlet. He wanted to ask her out before that happened.

            “Well, we were all gonna eat croquettes, then Dad, Matarō and I were gonna run around the bedroom all crazy before we finally conk out for the night!” She colored a bright shade of red. “But, I mean, I can take a rain date on all that stuff.”

            “Would you like to—” What did people usually do on first dates? “Go to dinner?” he guessed.

            “Heck yeah!” she shouted in his ear. He winced, but the pain meant nothing to him. She’d said yes… and… and he’d _kissed_ her. Ah, here came the blush, just as he knew it would. “There’s a great ramen place, but I also know a really old guy that makes yakisoba, or we could get hamburgers instead, or maybe—oh, let’s have crab cakes! I never get crab cakes! Or maybe Mom would make some croquettes and we could have a picnic! Ooh, ooh, or—” She was lost to him, naming off every food under the sun in an endless smorgasbord of where they could theoretically eat. He smiled; they could always decide tomorrow, and he had enough money to fill even _her_ iron stomach.   

            “Hey, we’re back.” A finger prodded his spine and he turned quickly, nearly knocking Mako’s head into a cabinet. She squealed with delight, holding her hands out as though he were a carnival ride. Matoi grinned at him, Lady Satsuki peering around the doorframe behind her. They both carried bags of what looked like sodas and a variety of candies and cakes.  “Hope we weren’t interrupting nothing,” Matoi added as she stepped past him, entirely ignoring the fact that her best friend was in his arms.

            “We didn’t know which kind of candy you liked, Gamagōri, so we bought many kinds,” Satsuki told him, pulling chocolates and peppermints out of her bag. Matoi merely dumped hers out on the table, cakes rolling everywhere. In a flash, Mako was out of his arms and had gathered up a small pile, cracking open her soda and chugging it.

            “We were just talking about where to go on our date tomorrow!” she happily told them, stuffing half a chocolate crème in her mouth. He sat back down as well, choosing a vanilla cake with strawberries and an orange cola. He stared at the table, wondering how the girl could speak so freely of dating, as though it were really nothing at all.

            “A date, eh?” he didn’t have to look at Matoi to know she was sneering at him. “Oh really.”

            “Yeah! Where should we go, Ryūko? The yakisoba guy? I thought about crab cakes, but a double cheeseburger from that one restaurant sounds really good, too.” Before he knew it, the two girls were deep in conversation about which eatery was the best for a nighttime date. He ate his cake in silence, listening to them for clues about where she might like to go. Something caught his eye and he glanced up to see Lady Satsuki smiling at him as she nibbled a chocolate bar. _Good job_ , her expression seemed to say. _I knew you could do it._ He inclined his head in return, acknowledging her silent praise.

            It seemed like it had been a good idea to come after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little oneshot. I've meant to write for the KLK fandom way before now, but just never got around to it. I fell in love with this pairing during my first run-through of the show and never looked back.


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